City of Divinity
by GlitterGod
Summary: After a fight with the dark Shadowhunters, Alec Lightwood falls prey to a fatal blow. While the Institute prepares for an unexpected burial, the younger Nephilim generation have other plans. Takes place after CoFA.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own the characters, but I do like to dabble in their lives. Enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter One**

"I felt it," sighed Jace as he padded back and forth along the stone corridor. The torches were lit as they always were, shining brilliantly against the smooth walls and set at specific intervals that seemed to frame the golden filigree carvings etched into the crystalized rock. The four C's—standing for Clave, Consul, Council, and Covenant—stood out between the lights, mocking every anguished step Jace took.

Three doors down, a flurry of chaos was taking place within the Institute. Silent Brothers had gathered to give, what Jace feared, would be the last rites. He'd tried several times to gain access to the small room, but at each attempt, Brother Zachariah had turned him away as though Jace had no right to be present at this final hour. And then there was Isabelle. She too had been forced from the room by Maryse, told to wait out in the hallway with the others or do something constructive to pass the time. But the only thing Isabelle had successfully managed to accomplish was punching a hole in the kitchen door, and grate on Jace's nerves. He could sense her dark eyes now, following him, assessing his every move as if he was a ticking time bomb in need of defusing. In truth, she was probably right; Jace felt like the heavenly fire inside of him could detonate at any moment.

"He's just in shock—"

Jace held up his hand, cutting off her repetitive argument. "You weren't there. You couldn't possibly understand what it felt like to have a piece of your soul torn from you." Tears threatened and stung his eyes, but Jace forced their retreat. He wouldn't cry. "He's dying, Izzy."

"Don't you say that," snapped Isabelle. A fierce defiance swept over her face, contorting her previously nervous smile into one of anger. _Good_, Jace thought, _anger is at least one step closer to acceptance_. "I can't lose them both. We can call Magnus. He can hel—"

"No!" The sharp word hung in the air and rattled the brass torch above Jace's head.

Jace remembered with perfect clarity only a few days before when he'd dispatched a message to the High Warlock of Brooklyn. His answer had been clear when the very same letter showed up on the Institute steps within an hour, unopened and the Lightwood family seal still intact. But the elegant script on the back of the yellowed parchment was unmistakable:

_Do not bother me with your trivial matters. Any further correspondence will be returned in the same manner. Yours no longer._

No, he could not call upon Magnus Bane again. Even if Alec hadn't forbid it in the first place, it was too late for Magnus to be of any service.

"You're his _Parabatai_!" shouted Isabelle. "Are you telling me that you're just giving up? I thought you would do anything for Alec?"

Rage boiled in Jace's veins, making his skin glow a sickly yellow color—a sign of the power within him. He watched as Isabelle took a step back, no doubt frightened of being anywhere near Jace as most were at this point. And when he spoke, his voice was cold, lifeless and void of any emotion save for that rage, his hands shaking violently with every word. "I would go to Hell and back for Alec. Don't you _dare_ question my loyalty. He's more than just my brother. But Alec has made his will known, and as his Parabatai I can't interfere."

"Then as his sister, I will."

Jace reached for Isabelle's arm to stop her as she stomped her foot on the cold stone floor, like a spoiled child denied a second helping of ice cream. Isabelle recoiled instantly, shrieking in pain as the heavenly fire that brewed within Jace lashed out at her pale skin, leaving three faint red burns across her forearm.

"Izzy, I'm sorry," he groaned, taking a breath to calm his nerves.

Isabelle ignored his apology—as she usually did—and glared straight ahead, as if she was looking _through_ him rather than directly _at _him. "So, you're just going to stand here and watch my brother _die_ when Magnus can save him?"

_Of course not_, Jace sighed internally as he calmed the aching fire within. "No, I'm going to stand out here while _Maryse_ watches him…die." Die. The word caught in his throat. "If you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly welcome in there."

"How can you make jokes at a time like this?" asked Isabelle, indignant and appalled.

"Because it's what Alec wants," sighed Jace, tugging on a few strands of his golden hair. He'd had only a few days to come to terms with his _Parabatai's _wishes, but he would not go against them. Alec wanted everything to continue as normal, to not cave to the grief he knew everyone was enduring. Alec had always been the strongest of them all, always the one with a level head. Who was Jace to deny his dying wish when Alec had given him reason to exist again? They were _Parabatai_; there was no greater oath in the Shadowhunter world than that. Jace would see to it—no matter how much it pained him—that Alec's final wishes were carried out. "Before he lost consciousness, he told me that Magnus could never know of how he died. I disobeyed his request when I contacted him. I won't do that again. He wants us to carry on like the family he has always known."

"But that's an impossible request!" shouted Isabelle again, tears freely running the length of her blanched cheeks. Jace couldn't recall a time when she'd been as vulnerable, not even back in Idris on that terrible day. "We aren't a family without Alec. I lost Max. I can't lose him too!"

"Don't you think I know that?" hissed Jace. "Don't you think I feel helpless? I have all this angelic power inside of me, but what good is it if I can't even heal my own brother!"

Jace was starting to fray at the seams again, like a paper doll that had been folded too many times. He was tough and resilient on the exterior, but his heart was breaking with every ragged breath that Alec took. When would the last one come? When would he feel that instant split—the kind where your entire body burned in agony. When would his _Parabatai _rune fade, and show the world that the one person he had come to revere above all else was dead?

Dead.

The mere thought of it had Jace gritting his teeth hard enough for his jaw bone to ache and protest, practically snapping under the strain. But Jace felt nothing; he was as empty as a shell. He could not afford to give into that pain while Alec still had life in his fragile body. Alec could not see his suffering, but Jace was certain he could feel it.

"We don't know anything about heavenly fire, Jace," said Isabelle, a little softer than before. She had always been wise to his moods, and knew when to resign herself to the losing side of an argument. "You can't blame yourself for this."

"Can't I?" He was back to pacing again, tearing a pattern in the tiles beneath his feet. "I should never have let Alec face Jonathan. I was right there. If only…"

"No. Don't do that." Isabelle's hand reached for him this time, and in true fashion, Jace shrugged her off as she continued. "It was Alec's choice. He knew the danger and did what he was born to do. We all know the risks when we take an oath to protect this world."

Visions of the battle flashed before Jace's burning eyes. Alec, in all his glory, perched on top of the Eifel Tower, picking off dark Shadowhunters and Ravenor Demons one arrow at a time. He had always been the best with a bow, and Jace had admired his _Parabatai _from a distance while in the thick of the fight. If it hadn't been for Alec, they would have lost half the Clave to Jonathan's army that night. But Jace hadn't counted on his twisted brother's sense of macabre. Jonathan—or Sebastian as he was known to some—was out for revenge. Jace had been overwhelmed with at least a dozen or more Shadowhunters with nothing but pure evil coursing through their veins. He'd thought it odd that although they had appeared from nowhere, they were focusing on solely him. Then he'd been given a reason for it.

Jace had felt rather than heard Alec's piercing cry, like a knife to the heart. He'd left him unprotected while Alec protected everyone else; of course Jonathan would seek to harm him. Not only was Alec a better shot than anyone on Jonathan's army, but he was also Jace's _Parabatai_—harm one, you harm the other.

He remembered looking up through the sea of seraph's and drops of crimson that obscured his vision. He remembered watching as moonlight glinted off the tower, giving the stage to two figures struggling atop. He remembered hurdling himself through the crowd, pushing both sides away as he charged the steps, caring nothing for who he had injured in his hasty attempt to reach Alec. And he remembered the moment when the pain had struck him. A pain so intense that Jace had almost lost his footing on the slick metal staircase. Almost. Half leaping and half running, he'd scrambled to Alec's side. Jonathan had long since vacated the area in the time it took Jace to scale the monument, but he could feel his essence lingering in the air and knew it had been his blood-bound brother that unleashed the deadly blow. Alec had lain motionless in his arms for what felt like an eternity before a sudden river of blood came pouring from his mouth. A large, angry gash rested across the middle of his body from sternum to stomach that Jace had not been able to bring himself to look at properly; he'd simply held Alec and whispered that everything would be all right as soon as they got him home to Manhattan. But in his haste, he'd forgotten that he was now cursed. Heavenly fire bubbled up from the depths of Jace's chest in a dazzling golden light, scorching Alec's skin and burning through his gear. Alec's muffled cries of pain had cut straight through Jace, and he'd let his brother—his _Parabatai_—fall upon the blood-stained observation deck to writhe in sheer agony alone. When the others had arrived Jace had followed silently, his tortured thoughts a whirlwind of chaos and blame. If he had not left Alec alone, if he had insisted on staying by his side during the fight, maybe none of this would have happened.

It was because of Jace that Alec burned.

It was his fault.

Jace had put the final nail in Alec's coffin. Even the Silent Brothers agreed that the injuries sustained would have been survivable had heavenly fire not consumed Alec's body. Jace had only wished to comfort his brother, and now he was destined to lose him.

There would be no absolution for Jace.

"I need to be alone," he answered finally, feeling defeated and not up to the task of entertaining Alec's wish for things to carry on as normal. There was a hollow feeling in his chest; if the pain he'd experienced in Paris was a marker for the future, he knew the loss of Alec would practically kill him too.

Jace absentmindedly rubbed across his _Parabatai _rune and turned for the stairs. He could vaguely make out Isabelle's disgruntled words as he walked away from the one face that reminded him so much of the person he'd failed.

* * *

It wasn't working. Isabelle had drawn the rune to perfection, placed her hand upon the door, and had even prayed to _Raziel_. But no matter how hard she concentrated, Isabelle could not hear what was happening inside of the room. She thought of the last time she'd seen Alec. He'd been standing in this very spot—looking a little worse for wear like usual as of late, but in much better condition than he had returned in—rattling on about tactics and protocol. Of how he was the eldest and should lead the charge, which Jace had then laughed off and told Alec where he could stick his brooding sobriety. Alec had tossed their brother a sour look, and Isabelle had found it most amusing. For a moment it was like nothing had happened, that Alec was blissfully happy with Magnus and they were all just going out on a routine hunt like old times. Alec and Jace had bickered back and forth about who would go first all the way to the portal, but as was with most cases, Alec pushed ahead and had been the first to converge on the scene.

Her big brother had always been the one to think things through, the one with the strongest head on his shoulders, always looking out for others. Then something changed inside of him. He was still the same level-headed Shadowhunter he'd always been, but there was no longer a light in his eyes. Isabelle had thought his defiant streak would run its course. After all, people broke up all the time. She'd had more than her fair share of breakups before Simon, but there was something different about the way Magnus and Alec were together that had done some permanent damage to her brother.

He was never the same after Magnus dumped him.

It was as if Magnus had taken a part of Alec with him, the part that smiled and laughed and loved with his whole heart. Of course, it was Alec's fault that Magnus had left him in the first place, but he was not fully to blame. Isabelle had tried to speak to the warlock several times, only to be turned away with a box full of Alec's belongings—a toothbrush, some black sweaters, a photograph taken in South Carolina with Magnus wearing an awful pink toga (She shuddered to think of why), and a few blades with runes etched into the hilt. He'd outright refused to discuss anything, and had since all but vanished. Gaining an audience with Magnus now was as impossible as hearing what was happening around her brother.

Isabelle's thoughts drifted to Jace. He'd been gone all of ten minutes before she'd taken to eavesdropping on the Silent Brothers. She could still see the look of defeat on his face as he'd turned away. It was then that she realized he'd given up. Jace would listen to Alec's ridiculous notions because they were _Parabatai_. She knew Jace would do anything Alec asked of him, even if it wasn't the right thing. How could Jace just stand by and watch her brother die? That was not the Jace she knew. This Jace was different, changed by the actions in which he blamed himself. Gone was the cocky boy she'd grown up with, the one who never paid attention to the rules or the wishes of others. He'd been replaced by a shell. Isabelle silently thanked the angel for not giving her a _Parabatai_. The pain of losing one seemed to be worse than the act itself.

Isabelle knew where he'd run off to—the training room. In true Jace fashion, he'd take his frustrations out on the wall, much like she'd done earlier when she'd smashed her fist through the kitchen door. The sting had left her hand, but the burns left behind by heavenly fire still ached on her skin.

She glanced down to the pale red lines on her forearm and silently cursed herself for losing her temper in front of the glow stick. That was what he'd been reduced to—a walking, glowing stick. Jace hadn't eaten properly in months and the bones in his face seemed more pronounced, as if the power inside of him was gnawing away at whatever sanity he had left. Not even Clary could calm him. Things were falling apart, and if Alec died, Isabelle knew Jace would die along with him. Maybe not physically, but he would never recover from the emotional toll.

Jace wouldn't chase after Magnus because Alec had forbidden it. The Silent Brothers had all but confirmed that Alec would not survive his injuries, that sometimes the body could not be healed with runes alone. And in Alec's case, only divine intervention would cure him.

"Divine intervention my ass," Isabelle swore under her breath as she withdrew her hand from the thick wooden doorframe. Somewhere inside the room her brother lay dying. Isabelle had sworn no oath. She had taken no vow. She hadn't even spoken with Alec since he stood right where she was now and flashed a wink a few days prior. And she was damned if some idiotic request was going to stand in the way of saving her brother's life. "Sorry, Jace," she mumbled before turning on her heel.

She only hoped that Magnus would listen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Along the far wall sat dozens of Ifrits and horned half-demons engaged in what could only be described as some sort of cuddling, though the imagery of it seemed more grotesque than anything else. Large round tables were scattered about the middle of a dirty, dust-ridden floor, while thick red curtains lined with golden tassels acted as a backdrop to the drunken scene. There was a bar—or something that resembled one—nestled in the corner with a gnarly-looking goblin taking orders and spitting out drinks left and right in the language of the Fey. Winding stairs twisted upwards into the darkness, where three sets of withered-faced trolls were sprawled out in some kind of semi-unconscious trance. A heavy layer of purple smoke hung in the air, rich with the scent of lilac and sugar, and for a moment, Jace felt dizzy.

An opium den.

The seer had sent him to a demon opium den.

Trying to locate someone who didn't want to be found was hard enough. Betraying his promise to Alec was something that could never be forgiven. But it was Isabelle's words that had brought him up short, made him rethink that promise.

He'd been standing in the training room when it happened. The blade had left his hand and missed the target completely, and Jace had fallen to his knees as a deep sorrow speared him from the inside out. This was Alec, his _Parabatai_. To Hell with wishes and promises. Even as he felt tears threaten for the second time—tears that would never fall, for he hadn't shed one since before he could remember—Jace knew he could not abide by Alec's last conscious request. It was futile. He'd tried to talk himself into it, tried to push down the small inner voice of Isabelle Lightwood, but it was of no use. Isabelle was right, and Alec was so very wrong. How could he just sit idly by and watch Alec leave him when there was something to be done about it? Maybe Magnus couldn't help, but Alec was too stubborn to understand that he wasn't the only one who needed closure. By shutting Magnus out, Alec would never find happiness in whatever life rested beyond this one. If it was the last thing he ever did for his _Parabatai_, he would hunt Magnus Bane down and force him back to the Institute.

Jace took a deep breath, despite the cool sting of herbs and sugar that lingered in the air and burned his lungs. He felt dizzy and not sure of his footing as he ambled towards the bar. The seer had been rather forthcoming after Jace traded his angel blade for information; he would have given his left arm to save Alec if it was requested of him. He'd been foolish to think he could do otherwise. Alec meant more to him than some stupid promise spoken with shame and self-loathing. However, if anyone would have told him that he'd be hunting down the High Warlock of Brooklyn in a demon brothel on a Saturday night, Jace would have laughed in their face. This was not the Magnus he knew.

As he thought it, Jace realized he knew very little about Alec's ex-boyfriend. For all he knew this was just another night in the life of Magnus Bane. Alec rarely spoke of what they did together, and Jace was grateful for it. The last thing he wanted to know was what happened behind closed doors. The nocturnal activities of his _Parabatai_ were best left to the imagination.

_Stop thinking about it_, Jace silently commanded himself. But it was too late. A vision of Magnus dressed in a gladiator suit, standing with one foot on the edge of the bed while Alec grinned up at him from the covers popped into his mind. It took all Jace had not to lose what little composure he was retaining, and cause even more of a commotion than he already had.

The moment he stepped inside, all eyes were upon him. He proudly flashed his runes and tried to keep hold of his sanity as he slammed his right hand down on the makeshift bar. If Magnus wasn't here, if Magnus refused to help, all was lost. Alec was running out of time.

"Your finest beer," announced Jace, much to the bartender's horror. His red eyes narrowed as if he'd expected something grander, like a full scale investigation—something Jace made a mental note to do at a more suitable time. Right now his concern was for Alec. "And the whereabouts of one Magnus Bane," he added.

"We don't serve your kind in here," hissed the goblin, his wispy voice prickling the hair on Jace's arms. "As for Magnus Bane…never heard of him." A wry smile flashed across the creature's face, causing Jace to place his hand on the seraph blade latched inside of his belt.

"Look, we can do it the easy way, or _my_ way. And trust me, the latter will leave you wishing you'd chosen better," snarled Jace as he leaned forward.

The goblin looked unphased and stood his ground. "You dare to threaten me in my own establishment, son of Valentine?" Jace's eyebrows lifted a fraction. "We all know who you are," he added in that same vile tone, one that indicated he was not going to give Jace the information he needed.

"I have it on good authority that Magnus is here. So, either point me in the right direction or I will tear your _establishment _apart until I find him myself!" Jace shouted, startling two pixies who appeared to have ingested some sort of powder that was making them grow to mortal size.

"There is no need for such unpleasantness," a calm, even-keeled voice called out from behind him.

Magnus.

Jace would know that voice anywhere, and turned to find Magnus half clinging, half straddling the staircase with a bottle of clear absinthe in his left hand; you could tell from the intricate label alone that it was from Magnus' personal stock. He was dressed in white silk—the color of mourning in the Shadowhunter realm—and red splotches decorated the lapel, disappearing under his shirt where Jace could have sworn he saw a scar that hadn't been there the last time they met. But maybe it was just the purple haze in the air that clouded his perception of things. His hair was limp and hanging just above his cat-like eyes, void of the usual glitter Jace had come to associate with the flamboyant nature of the High Warlock. He seemed thinner, too, somehow, even though warlocks didn't change past a certain point in their life. Or maybe it was just a hollow impression Jace saw, one that told of love and loss, and of centuries of pain that he had not really put to bed. Either way, it was still Magnus.

"I was just explaining to beady eyes here that I need to see you," Jace chuckled, jutting his thumb back at the goblin, who, at his words, nearly spit fire.

"His name is Jim," Magnus answered coolly, as though Jace should have known and addressed the bartender as such.

"Jim?" Jace couldn't stop the laugh. Despite the reason he was here, despite the fact that after nearly six months of silence Magnus was speaking to him again, there was something about the kindly warlock that lifted his spirits. It was like seeing Alec as he used to be, the smiles and jokes and blush that would rise in his cheeks whenever Magnus walked into the room. The person standing only a few feet away was the cause of that happiness, and Jace intended to put it back into Alec where it belonged. "I was expecting something more…extravagant, like Thor."

"Thor is the busboy," replied Magnus plainly. Jace couldn't tell if he was being serious or not.

"Bane, take your business elsewhere," snapped Jim from behind the counter before busying himself with a dirty washcloth, as if by speaking to Magnus with such distaste was not only an embarrassment, but also a huge mistake.

But if Magnus had been offended, he didn't show it. At least not to the goblin. Jace crossed the room, and for a moment he thought that Magnus would talk to him like old times. That was, until, the warlock's bronzed hand came crashing down around Jace's collar and he was dragged outside to rain soaked pavement. "Was my message too subtle for you, Nephilim?" he practically growled as he tossed Jace into a half-empty garbage can across the alley. "I told you not to seek me out, and now you've soured my name with poor Jim."

Jace staggered to his feet, stunned by the sudden change of events and the harsh edge to Magnus' otherwise placid demeanor. "The goblin will get over it," he coughed out. Magnus was stronger than he looked.

"You have not answered my question." Magnus stared him down coldly.

There was a daunting chill to Magnus now that Jace didn't recognize. He remembered Magnus to be a person of high intellect, stylish (albeit horrendous to him) fashion, and smooth textured dialogue. The warlock before him now lacked all the pleasantries of past encounters. It was as if some part of him was missing. "Straight to the point, huh?" Jace chuckled, though it was a dry laughter that didn't quite match his usual cocky self. Magnus remained silent, his hand clasped around the bottle of absinthe. Jace was sure the warlock was shaking. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't an emergency."

"It's always an emergency with you people." Magnus waved his free hand dismissively. "As I told Alec months ago, I am no longer in your service. I don't cater to the Clave nor am I interested in anything you have to offer. Goodbye, Jace."

Panic rose in Jace like a geyser. The heavenly fire within him crept to the surface, starting to glimmer on his skin with specks of golden light. "Magnus, wait!" he shouted, but the tall, hard-edged version of Magnus had already turned for the door. "_Please_!"

Magnus' hand paused on the doorknob, half itching to open it and half reluctant to leave. It was evident in the way he shifted his feet, and how his muscles tensed just below his jaw. Maybe Jace was reaching him. "I'm leaving New York tomorrow. There will be a new High Warlock within the week. Please inform your Consul."

The words just flew out of Jace's mouth before he could stop them, a sudden sense of urgency coming over him. "You can't leave! Alec needs you!"

"Alec needs to move on," snapped Magnus as he took a heavy swig from the bottle. Jace could tell he was visibly shaken and having trouble actually speaking Alec's name.

"Oh, he's moving on alright." Jace snorted. How ironic. Alec was moving on to a life beyond this one, and all Magnus could do was stare at him in surprise. "What?" Jace asked, as if he didn't already know what the warlock was thinking: Alec had a new boyfriend.

"G-Good," stuttered Magnus, confirming Jace's thoughts. "It's best if he doesn't dwell on the past. Regret is such a pointless emotion." He took another long draw of the bottle.

"By the Angel, Magnus. You're not even lucid, are you?" sighed Jace. How was he ever going to get through to him like this?

"Lucidity is overrated." Magnus jerked on the doorknob to the brothel den.

Jace had wanted to go about this differently, to break the news of Alec's passing kindly and without the hatred towards Magnus that he felt at this very moment. They had once been great friends, or as close to friends as one might be, and Magnus made Alec a better person. But now, faced with the threat of losing both the brother he'd come to revere and the man that held his heart and had fought alongside them in countless battles, he was left with no alternative. "Alec is dying." Three words were all Jace could manage to say, and they came out barely above a whisper for he could not bear to submit to the horrible truth of it all.

Magnus froze in mid-step and the bottle slipped from his fingertips, crashing into the sodden ground and shattering into a hundred crystal pieces at his feet. The sound rattled off the alley walls and pounded in Jace's ears. So much so, that he barely heard Magnus say, "You're lying. This is a trick."

"I swear to _Raziel_ it is not," answered Jace, finding a small sliver of hope from Magnus' reaction to the news.

All the color had drained from Magnus' cheeks as he turned around and glared at Jace with contempt in his green-gold eyes. "I would have known. I would have felt it," he said, a slight trace of unease in his deep voice.

"You distanced yourself from us long ago. Alec did not want you to know about his death," Jace explained.

A sudden rage swept over Magnus' face, as if he was insulted by Jace's heartfelt remark. "You speak of your _Parabatai_ as though he has already passed. Do you think me a fool, Jace Morgenstern?"

"Not a fool," he replied casually. "But a stubborn warlock who clearly needs to take his own fashion advice. I mean, seriously, Mags, you've lost your touch." Jace motioned to the unkempt clothes and straggly hair that adorned Magnus now. "When is the last time you took a bath, or did something productive?"

Magnus eyed him with the cool, calculating stare of someone who had nothing to lose. "About the same time you actually gave a thought to anyone but yourself. If Alec did not want me to know, then I don't know."

"Magnus, you can't mean that." The hysteria was back in Jace's voice. "I tracked you down in hopes you would come back with me to save Alec's life! Does he mean that little to you?"

"You should listen to your brother, Jace. He obviously knows what he is doing, and has never had a problem tossing me aside for his own selfish needs. Good luck with all the dying," laughed Magnus as he waved his hand. A flicker of blue light passed between them, and Jace found that, although he tried, he could not follow inside the den. All he could do was watch as Magnus disappeared from sight.

His last hope had not believed a word he'd spoken.

* * *

It was just as Isabelle remembered. The cluttered garbage cans, the dimly light bulb above the door, even the chip of white paint just below the single named plate was all still the same. She rang the buzzer for what felt like the tenth time in as many minutes, but there was still no answer from the High Warlock of Brooklyn.

_He must be out_, Isabelle mused to herself. Though it was cold and rainy and the wind stung her pale cheeks, she would sit here and wait for as long as it took him to return. But did her brother have that kind of time? For all she knew, Magnus was in China, or Singapore, or just down the block getting a cup of coffee. It could be days, even weeks, before she saw hide or hair of Magnus Bane.

In a brazen move, Isabelle drew a rune on Magnus' front door. The wood began to splinter and peel away from the frame, and with a great whoosh of air, the door gave way. Isabelle stood both shocked and surprised that it had worked; Magnus usually had some kind of ward up to prevent unwanted guests from entering his home without permission. But then she remembered what he'd told her one summer's day before everything had gone to hell: _My home will always be open to the Lightwoods, as long as I still have breath in my body_. Of course, he'd been speaking of Alec, not her. Then again, she was every bit a Lightwood like her brother.

Chairman Meow greeted her on the steps and she took the purring cat into her arms, relieved that he hadn't yowled and tried to scratch her eyes out for the intrusion. It was like holding a piece of her past. She had never really enjoyed the cat's company, but Alec had. And in Chairman she discovered a part of Alec that was never fully resurrected after his breakup with Magnus. "Hello, Chairman," she cooed to the feline, who brushed his head under her chin. "And where is your master, hmm?" The cat had no reply for that one; he just simply curled up on her chest and let out a soft meow.

The inside of the apartment was much different than she remembered. Instead of grandiose tapestries and rich, plush furniture, she found the place almost bare, save for a round table and a few scattered bean bags that looked like they belonged back in the seventies. Gone were the laughs and memories of parties. Gone were the pictures of Shadowhunters and Downworlders enjoying the celebration in Alicante. Gone were echoes of love and happiness that had been shared in this very room. They had all been replaced by takeout boxes, plastic bags, and a rather unsettling crimson stain on a tattered couch tucked into the corner by the cold and empty fireplace.

She wondered for a moment how Magnus could live like this. Magnus, the only one she had ever known who charged into battle wearing sequin armor and the very next day had thrown them all a bubble bath party—one that she had not indulged in for several reasons. Where was that sparkle now? Where was the imprint of Magnus Bane? This place was as foreign to her now as the thought of losing her brother.

But there were still some traces of Magnus left in the curve of the room, and the scent of sandalwood that lingered in the air, and it gave Isabelle pause to hope that he had not been lost entirely. If only Magnus would have allowed them to come by, to speak with him on Alec's behalf, or had not turned Alec himself away in the dead of night when he'd come crawling back to beg forgiveness for his betrayal. If only then, perhaps this might not have happened at all.

Realizing she was thinking more of Alec's current situation and not of the group as a whole, Isabelle sighed. She could not fault Magnus for disentangling himself from Alec and the rest of them, not after her brother sought out the likes of Camille to cut short his ex-boyfriend's life. Isabelle knew he would never have gone through with it; he was merely jealous of Magnus' past and afraid for what the future would mean since Magnus was immortal. He'd been foolish and arrogant, and had paid the price. But would Magnus let him suffer to retain his own pride? Isabelle thought not. Not if he knew the truth.

Alec was still in love with Magnus.

From the state of Magnus' apartment, the feeling was mutual.

Isabelle would wait for his return.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The cemetery was dark, gloomy, and spoke of a chilling past that haunted the grounds with a sorrowful vengeance. Trees held no leaves, only thin, creaky branches hovered over the gravestones, as if their spindly arms were pointing at the names of those who laid buried beneath the soil and mocking that he would be next. Even with the threat of eternal midnight above, those who wandered this barren place seemed to see quite clearly, though Alec hadn't moved from his spot beneath a massive oak tree since his arrival. Crisp, brown grass, dried from the lack of life that surrounded this place, poked into his white pajama bottoms and itched the backs of his thighs. He was constantly scratching and adjusting his position, but no matter how hard he made the attempt, the grass continued to bother him.

If this was limbo, Alec would have rather gone straight to Hell. You couldn't do anything here; if you tried to leave the gates, you were thrown back or taken by one of the guardian spirits and dragged deeper underground. He'd seen it happen to a few, most of which never returned. Alec wasn't sure if it was because they had moved on or if something more sinister had taken hold of them, delivering an entirely new sort of torture.

It was cold here, and Alec hadn't stopped shivering for several hours. Were they hours? Or were they days, weeks, months, or merely minutes? He couldn't tell. For all he knew, he _was_ dead and this was his punishment for betraying the one person he'd loved more than his own life. But he didn't feel dead. He felt his heartbeat barely pulsing beneath his chest, and the flow of blood in his veins as his body tried to warm itself. On occasion, he could hear distant murmurs and pleas; no one else took any notice, so Alec was certain they were meant for his ears only. He'd heard his mother begging for him to find his way back. He'd listened to Jace telling him everything was going to be okay. He'd cringed when Isabelle had threatened to knock him upside the head with her boots. But he'd given no reply. He couldn't, for he had no way to push his voice beyond the graveyard. It simply reverberated back to him, just like everyone else's. It was a never ending chorus of, "Hello, can you hear me? Mom? Dad? My love?" around this place, and it had Alec hunkering down under the tree with his hands clasped over his ears at almost every turn.

It was maddening.

Alec sat up straight and leaned his head back against the bark of the tree. There were no stars in this place, just a full moon obscured by roaming dark clouds that constantly shifted their position. The wind was all but absent as well, and only made an appearance when some poor soul tried to escape. Maybe that was what he was now—a soul. Doomed to walk in the shadows for the rest of eternity without hope of finding a life beyond this one. And he deserved it. He hadn't much of a life without Magnus anyway. Not anymore. Not since he'd felt what it was like to be loved by someone who could have had anyone in the world and had chosen him.

"_You are not trivial, Alexander."_

"_I always need your strength."_

"_Aku cinta kamu. It means I love you, not that it changes anything."_

Alec sighed as the last words ran through his mind. He remembered Magnus' saddened eyes as he walked away for the final time in the subway. He'd tried everything he could think of to make it up to Magnus, but the fact remained that there was no forgiveness for something of this caliber. Even though Alec had gone to meet with Camille to explain that he would not cut Magnus' life short in exchange for information about his past, the truth of the matter was that Alec had given every thought of doing so prior to that moment. And there was no absolution for someone who would willingly seek to harm another, especially one that they loved beyond measure.

"Idiot." The back of Alec's head collided with the tree, though he felt no pain. He wished that pain would come. Maybe then he'd have a distraction from his lonely thoughts.

"Sucks, doesn't it?" a shrill voice called out from behind a cracked gravestone.

Alec blinked and looked up to see a familiar face in the darkness, dark tendrils of hair curling down over her narrow shoulders. "Maia?" he asked, almost incredulously.

The girl laughed and seemed to float over to him, ending with a cross legged stance on the grass and an amused look on her tan face. "That's her name? I was beginning to wonder." Alec was more confused than ever, and opened his mouth to speak before snapping it shut again. "Oh, don't get your panties in a knot, Lightwood," she carried on. "I take the shape of someone from your life. I'm your guide."

"So, of all the faces you could choose, you take Maia?" Alec snorted; he barely knew the girl.

"I didn't choose it. You did," Maia replied in a snotty tone.

Alec had to laugh; Maia wasn't exactly the last face he wanted to see before he died. _Magnus…_

"Right, and the next thing you're going to tell me is that you're here to give me some sound piece of advice that will send me back to my body in peace," Alec jested.

"Don't be stupid. You can't go back. I'm here to take you onwards," she snickered, as though the thought of his resurrection was humorous in itself.

"So I really _am_ dead then?" he sighed, tucking up his knees and resting his chin on them.

The vision of Maia mimicked his actions and let out a piercing laugh. "Not yet, but there is nothing that can be done. It's only a matter of time."

"And what? You've been sent here to collect me?" Alec groaned internally. There was so much he still wanted to accomplish in life, so many things he'd left unsaid.

"I'm stuck here just like you until your body gives in," she confirmed. "And then we will see where you end up."

Great, his final moments spent with a wolf. Or at least one in ghostly form. It wasn't exactly how Alec had pictured the end of his life. There was a time when he'd envisioned laying in a warm bed as an old man, surrounded by his family and friends. Magnus had been there too, dressed in Shadowhunter white and blazing like the sun. He'd held Alec's hand and had wept for only a brief moment—the first time he had ever seen his ex-boyfriend cry. A look had passed between them, sharing decades of the life they'd spent together, of the love they shared even as Alec grew old and Magnus remained the same. With his last breath, he'd told Magnus how much his love had meant to him, and how he would find him once again in the next life. And then there had been silence. Just silence.

Of course none of it had come to pass, only memories of a dream haunted him now. Alec tore himself away from the painful thoughts and glanced back at Maia, who was busying herself with trying to hold onto a leaf that kept slipping from her transparent grasp. "What's it like?" Alec asked her shyly. "The other side?"

"Well, that depends," she answered without looking up.

"On what?" Alec kept his gaze upon her, afraid that if he looked away his thoughts would once again turn to his family, and that of the warlock. _His_ warlock.

"On what judgment is passed against you for the sins of this life. Sometimes you go up, sometimes, well…" She paused and a gruesome smile crossed her features. "Sometimes you go down. From the state of your mind right now, I'd wager the latter."

* * *

Maryse could take no more; the Silent Brothers had done all that they could for Alec, and now it was just a matter of watching her precious boy fade from this world. They could give her no clear indication of when that would happen, stating that Alec was a fighter and unwilling to let go of the earthly plane in which he clung to. It would be much easier, they said, if Alec was given the chance to put right whatever had gone wrong. It was that pain that bound him to this dimension. But that too would diminish the longer Alec's body tried to fight the inevitable. He could not withstand the rapid deterioration of his mortal body.

"How is he?" Jace asked, his eyes rimmed with scarlet strain as Maryse plodded out into the long hallway, closing the door behind her.

"Very much the same. No worse, but no better either. Sometimes I wish he would just let go," she sobbed, holding a damp washcloth to her mouth. Was it blasphemous to wish the death of her only living son? Watching Alec suffer felt more painful than the act of his last breath, at least right now. When the actual event happened, Maryse knew she would fall apart.

"How can you say that?" Jace bellowed, staggering to his feet. There were mud stains on his jeans around the ankles, and a slight healing bruise on his left arm. She could tell that he'd been out, probably fighting demons in his apparent rage. "You think it would be better if Alec _died_?"

Maryse shook her head, her hands trembling at the thought of it. "No. But he suffers, Jace. Brother Zachariah says that he's clinging to this world. If he let go…"

"If he lets go, then we lose him," finished Jace with an indignant glare. "He's here with us now, and we have to do all that we can to save him."

"It's already been done!" she shouted back, grief flooding her veins. "Robert is coming back from Idris this afternoon to say goodbye. I love you, Jace, but don't make this any harder than it has to be."

"I went looking for help." Jace pulled a letter from his pocket—one that, upon discovery, must have left him with an angry, hollow feeling because the look on his face was as enraged as ever. "So did Isabelle." He flung the letter at Maryse and recoiled.

Her eyes fell on the words: I won't let my brother die. _I've gone to find him and don't try to stop me._

"You've got to go after her," exclaimed Maryse with a sigh. "Alec's wishes…"

"To Hell with his wishes," snapped Jace angrily. "Alec said that when he was delirious. If it saves his life, so be it. I might not agree with Isabelle's plan, but maybe she'll have better luck than me."

"Jace…"

A sudden whirring noise echoed up the corridor, and both of their head snapped towards the sound, the letter forgotten. Clary came darting along the stone tiles, her red hair streaked back with the urgency of her charge. "J-Jace…M-Maryse…I tried…" Her breathless words were almost incoherent.

Jace took Clary by the shoulders and steadied her. As she winced, he withdrew his hands, and Maryse was certain that he cursed under his breath. _Heavenly fire_, she thought to herself. "Good heavens, Clary. What is it?" asked Maryse as pleasantly as she could with the circumstances.

"He's coming. I tried to ask him to wait downstairs, but he insisted," Clary breathed out.

"Who's coming?" Jace practically barked, alarm ringing in his voice.

"Me."

Everyone looked up at the person strolling down the hallway as if he belonged inside of the Institute, as if he hadn't a care in the world. Maryse had never been so relieved and so unnerved to see him in all of her life.

Magnus Bane.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

He'd watched Jace trudge down the alley from the safety of the brothel window. Opium dens had never been much of a treat for Magnus, even with the promise of fresh demon powder, decent drinks, and all the company he could wish for. There had been a time in his life when he'd flocked to places such as that, but since meeting the young Shadowhunters and joining forces with them once again, they lacked their usual flavor.

The bartender—whose name wasn't really Jim—had tossed him another sour look in regards to the smashed bottle of absinthe strewn about the doorway, but he hadn't the guts to call Magnus out on it. He was the High Warlock—for the time being anyway—and was owed respect. Even if the title hadn't been granted to him eons ago, his reputation preceded him. But soon another would take his place, and Magnus would retire to a villa in the south of France and pick up on his artistry like he'd done so many years before. The further he distanced himself from the Shadowhunters and their mind games, the better it would be in the long run. He didn't fancy himself being turned into another pet, at their beck and call during all hours.

For Alec, he would have done just about anything, but that time had passed. So how he came to be standing in the middle of the open corridor inside of the Institute, staring down three ashen faces of pure shock, was a complete mystery to him. Magnus believed it had happened somewhere between fourth and eighth street. One moment he'd been walking back to his apartment, and the next, he'd hailed a taxi to take him into Manhattan. Mundane transportation was so crude and slow compared to that of a portal, but Magnus had needed the time to think things over. He then regretted that choice—as he departed the taxi only moments before—since his clothes had reeked of peppers and onions from the driver's badly prepared sub sandwich that had permeated the cab's interior. He'd taken a brief interlude to whisper a spell, cleansing his dull clothes of the rotten stench prior to ringing the doorbell, and startling a very frayed Clarissa Fairchild in the process—someone he had not expected to greet him at this late hour.

That was his first sign that perhaps Jace was telling the truth.

Usually it was one of the Lightwoods who came bounding through the church's wide doors. Seeing Clarissa in near hysterics at his arrival had only drilled a deep seed of worry into Magnus' chest, though he dared not let it show. For all intents and purposes, he was here merely to assess the situation, and intended to be paid handsomely by the Clave for his services should they be needed. He still had his doubts about Alec's condition, and if he even cared the boy was ill in the first place. One did not die of illness these days with the items at the Shadowhunter's disposal, and the help of the Silent Brothers. This was still a ploy in his mind, something to drag him out of hiding in the dead of night. He expected Alec to jump out from behind a door at any moment and beg him once again for forgiveness he could not grant, although he wanted to.

_Do not think of such things_, a little voice in the back of Magnus' mind whispered, _he betrayed your trust. He cheapened your love_. Magnus shook his head. "You know, I expected a little more…red carpet treatment," he boasted. "Perhaps an Oscar."

The only one who didn't seem confused was Clary, who looked up with a ghastly expression and said, "This isn't the time for jokes, Magnus," and then turned to Jace to whisper an explanation on how he was expecting an awards ceremony in his honor.

Magnus grinned a thin line. "One can hope."

"Alec is in here," Maryse timidly answered, a small rag clutched between her pallid fingertips. "Please, do all that you can." Magnus stayed where he was. "You have come to heal him, haven't you?" she asked with tears brimming in her eyes.

The second sign. Something within Magnus began to pick away at his nerves. Was Alec really dying? "I have come here for the truth, and then I will see myself out," he finally admitted. The Nephilim were through using him as a tool to get the job done. If this was an act, a ploy, a rouse, he would vanish from their service forever.

"The…truth?" Maryse glared at him with such venom that Magnus took a step back. "My son is on his deathbed and you want the _truth_?" She approached him, a fire he had long since forgotten about emanating from familiar eyes. "I'll give you the truth, Magnus Bane. What you did to my son is reprehensible in itself, but to cast aside aid for someone you supposedly loved is repugnant."

"Mother…" Jace whispered, reaching out to slow her down, but pulling his hand back almost immediately. "As much as Captain Glitter over there didn't exactly make things easy on him, Alec is the one at fault here."

"Listen to the boy, Maryse," Magnus smugly replied. "You raised quite the calculating son."

"My son _died_ the day you left him." Maryse jabbed her thumb towards the closed door a few feet away. "What remains in there is a shell of what he was. But he is still my son, and if you ever loved him at all, I would ask you to show some respect."

_If you ever loved him at all_. The condemning words echoed inside of his head. Of course he had loved Alec. He loved him still. Alec was the light when nothing but darkness surrounded him. He was the fire in Magnus' heart and the power resting in his veins. Alexander Lightwood was the only one that Magnus had ever thought of giving up his immortality for, to spend his days growing old as a mortal beside another. And he would have used the Book of White to do just that if Alec had asked it of him. Instead, the boy took the selfish attempt upon himself without thought to Magnus.

"Do not lecture me on love," hissed Magnus as old feelings began to resurface and gnaw away at him—Alec in the subway, the feel of his cold skin as they had shared a moment between them, Magnus allowing the boy to see that he was not just a demon, but of angelic descent, the witchlight glowing in his hands, the feel of their bodies pressed together, and the flat look of despair that his ex-boyfriend had given him as Magnus retreated into the darkness.

_Aku cinta kamu. I love you…I love you…_

"Magnus," interrupted Jace, no doubt sensing the heated tension in the air. "Just open the door and see for yourself. You've come all this way dressed like a hobo. The least you can do is look."

_Trust Jace to poke fun at a perfectly good vintage suit,_ Magnus thought to himself. "Alright, show me the boy," he sighed, resigned to the fact that he'd come all this way to do just this very thing, not actually expecting anything to come of it.

The door creaked open with a sluggish crack, though none of them had moved. Brother Zachariah emerged from within the candlelit space, his head bowed in reverence and his voice entering their minds. _It is too late. Alexander Lightwood is beyond this world. Peace be with him._

* * *

"It's not true," Jace kept repeating. "Look at my rune. The _Parabatai_ rune! It's still there. I feel nothing. You would think I would feel _something_ if he was dead!"

Clary looked at him as though she was afraid to say a word.

Jace couldn't blame her; he'd been rambling on about the ludicrous thought for the past hour. If Alec was dead—really and truly dead—he would know. He would feel their instant separation. The rune would fade.

He was now pacing the halls with his phone tucked under his ear, murmuring a string of curse words that made Clary blush a fierce scarlet. But he didn't care; Alec was supposedly dead and Isabelle was nowhere to be seen.

A few minutes before Magnus had disappeared inside of the room with Brother Zachariah and Maryse, he'd snagged Magnus by the arm and questioned him on what changed his mind about Alec. He'd needed a distraction. The Silent Brothers believed Alec to have passed on, but the proof of the intact rune made them second guess that theory and they'd granted Magnus an audience.

"Was it Isabelle?" he'd asked, and much to his surprise, Magnus hadn't a clue as to what he was talking about.

That was when dread had hit him and had not left since. Where was Isabelle? Had she gone and done something ridiculous out of grief for her brother? He could not lose her too.

"She's still not answering," Jace groaned, hanging up for the fifteenth time. "And her voicemail is full."

"She'll be all right, Jace," Clary softly answered, but made no move to touch him. "You know how Isabelle is. She's probably out kicking something with her boots, or taking her frustrations out on Simon."

"I hope you're right," he sighed once more before pocketing the phone and leaning against the cold stone wall.

But there was an odd, foreboding feeling in the pit of Jace's stomach. Alec was more important to Isabelle than getting her rocks off with Simon. She wouldn't stray from the Institute for this long without good reason. And Jace would not leave Alec again. He wanted to be here just in case something _did_ happen. Just in case he was needed.

_Where are you, Izzy…_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Limbo was worse than being forced to eat his sister's cooking, and up until this point, Alec hadn't believed _anything _could be viler than that. Yet here he was, stuck in a cryptic graveyard that reeked of day old refuse and rotting corpses, conversing with _Maia_ of all people in his final moments on this plane. And it was cold, chilling right down to the bone. He could not find warmth or hope in a place such as this.

"And though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil…" Maia chirped out as she played with her hair.

"I never took that as a literary translation of text," grumbled Alec, surveying the wasteland of roaming lost souls and eerie shadows that moved along the horizon. It was very much like a valley of death, and he feared it. He feared the blind emptiness that came with death, but not as much as he feared the future—of what would have become of him, a mortal in love with an immortal. With someone who could not die.

"_Everything_ is literal," she grinned back, as though this was just another game for her and she had done this on countless occasions.

"So if everything has a literal translation, where are all the Pokémon and half-naked ninja warriors?" huffed Alec as he resigned himself to leaning back against the tree again.

Maia laughed, the sound bouncing off the barren branches above and startling a girl, who at the high-pitched giggle, hid behind a gravestone, the only marker of her presence a thick strand of long black hair blending into the obsidian rock. She was trapped here just as he was. Just as they all were. "You've been hanging around Jace too long," Maia chortled. "Cockiness doesn't suit you, Alexander."

His name sounded different on her lips, deeper and familiar, and brought him up short. "What did you just say?" No one called him Alexander anymore.

"Are you deaf? I said cockiness doesn't suit you, Alec." She laughed again.

He must have been hearing things. Or more specifically, hearing things he wanted to hear one last time. "If I'm dying anyway, what's the point in holding back?"

"You're stubborn. Did anyone ever tell you that? I don't know why you don't just let go so I can get back to floating around in the clouds, and you can get some peace," she sighed.

"I didn't realize I was hanging on," Alec scoffed, blinking a few times in surprise. "You said we were waiting for my body to give in. Tell me how to let go and I'll do it. I'm tired of this place."

Maia stopped playing with her hair and shot him a look of her own. "Why else do you think everyone roams around this valley? Because they can't let go. You're the only one I haven't seen try to break down the gates and leave. You're scared."

He hadn't tried on purpose. Fear kept him rooted to the spot under the tree, she was right about that. "I've seen what happens to those who try. Where do they go when they're taken?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, no, that would be cheating. I'm only here as a guide, someone to talk to," she smirked back.

"Well, you're doing a fantastic job." Alec rolled his eyes. He'd much rather have sat here with Church than Maia. Anyone but Maia. She was no help at all.

"There's the sarcasm I was waiting for," she snickered. "They told me you'd be a special case. You have fight left in you yet, Alexander."

_Alexander…_

_ Alexander…_

_ Aku cinta kamu…_

A voice echoed inside of his head, but Alec pushed it away. If he was going down, he would not drag the painful memories down with him.

"And what is that supposed to mean? You just told me I should let go!" Alec screeched. He was tired of all these games. Tired, so very tired…

"It seems the rules have changed." Maia's hand lifted and pointed in the direction of the tombstone, in which the fragile girl still clung to. "Sometimes, more than one life is lost in the balance of things. Tell me, Alexander Lightwood…what do you have left to live for when everyone you love is dead and gone?"

Alec's gaze wandered to the figure emerging from behind the headstone.

It was Isabelle.

* * *

Alec lay motionless in the bed, the covers drawn up to his chin and only candlelight reflecting off of his body. His chest rose and fell fluently, but the breaths were as shallow as they were short. A map of thin blue lines decorated his eyelids, and the shadows beneath them were an angry shade of grey. There was no sound in the room whatsoever. Magnus had barely listened as the Silent Brothers left them to their own devices.

He vaguely recalled mentioning that he would do all that he could to call Alec back from the abyss, but he couldn't promise success. Brother Zachariah was correct; Alec's soul no longer rested in his body. And the body could not live without the soul.

"Alexander…" he whispered, placing a cool hand on the boy's forehead. He looked so fragile to Magnus' cat-like gaze, so completely at the mercy of his injuries. This was nothing but an echo of the boy he had once loved, and loved still. There were several _iratzes_ carved into Alec's flesh that pulsed with the healing power of the angel, but they wouldn't be able to save him. Not even the rarity of the Silent Brother's own runes would be enough to call him home. They relied far too much on their rules and not enough on the hope that there was something beyond this dimension that could aid them. They believed that the soul was in God's hands and that nothing short of divine intervention would cure him.

Well, not if Magnus had anything to say about it.

"Alexander," he repeated again, this time with a little more force, his lips pressed to Alec's left temple. The boy was cold and still and without the caring nature that he'd possessed all those months ago. For the first time in his life, Magnus was afraid—afraid of losing the one person that he loved above all others. Seeing Alec in this condition made him curse the day he had ever parted from the Shadowhunter.

The touch of Alec's skin against his lips was pleasing, albeit a sad and desperate feeling. He had not been prepared to lose Alec all those months prior, and he was no more prepared to lose him now. Jace had not been lying, and Magnus was a damn fool for not believing him.

He kissed over Alec's forehead, just breathing in the scent that had plagued him since their separation. Alec—_his_ Alec—was the nearest to death as he had ever been. The others were looking to Magnus to bring Alec back as he had done on countless occasions before, but this was different. Magic sparked at Magnus' fingertips, emitting a soft, blue glow as he trailed them under the blankets and down the large gash that ran the length of Alec's body. The boy made no protest, no movement or cause to think that this was working. The Silent Brothers had their methods, but they could not use magic. They did not understand the power of its healing and would never accept a demon in place of their strict ceremonial rules.

"Alexander…Alexander…" The name left his lips again, soft and gentle but with a commanding force that only those on the other side would hear. Only those with enough sight to understand the difference between spirits and souls would ever notice.

Something odd happened then that Magnus hadn't expected. Alec's breath hitched and his chest rose into Magnus' touch. For a moment, Magnus froze completely. Had Alec heard him, or was he simply too late and his beloved Alec would not take another breath after this one? But he did; Alec breathed evenly and slowly, one breath after the next, easing Magnus' mind as he returned to placing tender kisses across Alec's skin.

"Do you remember when we first met?" Magnus muttered as he moved to lay in the bed beside Alec, his hands pulsing with blue energy that leaked into Alec's body and made it tremble. "Now, I know what you're thinking," he carried on, as if Alec were conscious of the conversation. "I had no pants on and took a young girl into my room alone. But do you know what I thought of the entire time that Clary was rattling on about her mother? You. It was always you, from that very first day. And if you dare to leave me now, Alexander Lightwood, I will be quite cross and follow you into the deepest region of Heaven and throw you over my knee. You have left quite the mess here, young man. I think it's about time you came back and put things right."

No response. Not a single twitch or movement.

Magnus sighed and pressed in against his former lover, as if his body could somehow remind Alec of what they had shared. What—now that he had been reunited with his love—Magnus desperately wanted to share again, no matter the cost. "Then there was the night we stayed up for hours," he continued, despite the pain enveloping his chest. "I was not about to turn down the trade—Jace for you. You were so nervous and kept fidgeting with the duvet on the couch, and Chairman was having a fit." Magnus laughed at that memory, and tucked his face into the crook of Alec's chilled neck. "I missed his nightly feeding because of you, and oh, the looks I received in return. He didn't speak to me for an entire day as a result. I wouldn't trade that night for anything in the world."

Nothing.

Magnus increased the healing magic flowing into Alec's body, his reserves strained by both the attempt and the sorrow in his heart. "I want to tell you something," he mumbled. "The night I left you in the subway, I…almost came back. It was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, and if there was a way to make things right between us, I would do it without hesitation. I was angry with you, nothing more." His hold tightened around Alec's chest, hoping his words would somehow reach him on the other side. "What do you have left to live for when everyone you love is dead and gone? Do not leave me like this. I have no one else. I live for you." He dropped his voice to a soothing, loving whisper again. "Aku cinta kamu, Alexander. I loved you then. I love you now. Come back to me…"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Isabelle froze. She had no idea what had happened. One minute she was sitting on the couch at Magnus' apartment, reading through one of his books. The next, something sharp had twisted in her chest and she'd wound up screaming out for Chairman, who began pawing at her hands like a frantic cougar in search of a meal. The transition had been jarring; her entire body had gone eerily cold and still, and though she'd panicked when whatever had forced her from the room transported her beyond the plane of the living, it was nothing compared to the hollow emptiness she felt now.

She could see Alec staring at her with wide blue eyes from a distance away, and the woman beside him laughing as she pointed a dark finger in her direction. But she could not hear them properly for she was full of this immense despair that clung to her body like tar.

"Alec! Alec!" she cried out through the chaos, and although he seemed to hear her, the voice that left her lips was a shadowy reminder that things in this place spoke of death and decay. The longer she stayed in limbo, the more she felt its icy hold pulling her down into the abyss.

"Izzy!" It was Alec's voice this time, and suddenly he was at her side, his cool fingertips drifting through her hair. "What in the name of the angel are you doing here?"

"I'm cold," she whimpered, clutching his damp shirt. "So very cold."

"She's not supposed to be here," said the woman, who Isabelle vaguely thought resembled Maia. But that was impossible. "Look at her eyes, her skin. She's not facing death. The rules have changed, and—"

There was a loud clap of thunder, and lightning cracked across the sky in a horrific shade of red—the color of blood. The ground beneath them began to shake and pull apart, and if it hadn't been for Alec's quick reaction, she would have been sucked into the searing pits of Hell beneath. "IZZY!" he frantically screamed as they rolled down a steep embankment and smashed into a tombstone. The rock gave way, crumping backwards into a pile of rubble. "What's going on?" she heard Alec cry out, but the ghostly version of Maia had dissipated, leaving them fighting against something they could not see, but definitely was out incur harm.

"Alec? Alec?" Isabelle was just as frantic, her dark eyes wide with fear. How had she ended up here? And more importantly, how had she found her brother? "We have to leave this place. It's not safe here!" she shouted.

"We can't. We're trapped between dimensions." Alec clutched her protectively against his chest. She could feel his heart racing, his breath ragged against her forehead.

"If I found a way in, then there's a way out!" she argued. It was true. She wasn't dead, not even close to facing death, and yet she had managed to locate Alec—even if she didn't quite understand how.

"How did you get in?" Alec leaned back and shook her hard by the shoulders. "You're going to die in this place just like me! You stupid, foolish, wonderful sister of mine."

Isabelle shook her head. Trust Alec to balance an insult with a compliment, especially when they were both about to be swallowed by the earth. "I was dozing on Magnus' couch reading one of his books. There was this pain my chest and then I was here."

She thought she both saw and heard Alec groan; the look on his face told a story of understanding, and not one of pain like she had been expecting. Anytime someone mentioned Magnus' name, Alec recoiled into himself. But the person before her now seemed to have a glow about his cheeks that she had missed. "It's dangerous to read from one of his books," Alec laughed, despite the dire circumstances. "Don't you remember the time I accidentally turned the coffee table into a demonic chicken because I thought I was reading a cookbook?"

"You should have known Magnus doesn't cook." Isabelle cracked a smile as well, though it didn't last. The tree above them snapped, its thick trunk threatening to eviscerate them on impact. Alec yanked on her shoulder and they rolled again, this time being stopped by Alec himself a mere few feet from a wrought iron gate that seemed to have no limit to its height. As she glanced back at her brother, he'd gone stiff and pale—paler than he had been. "What's wrong?" she asked, as if their situation wasn't bad enough already.

"We can't touch that gate or we'll be taken," he answered quietly, like he was afraid someone might hear him. He'd gone still again after speaking, a long drawn out look on his face. Isabelle thought perhaps he was hearing something she wasn't. There was a look in his eyes that had been absent for some time. "Magnus…" he whispered, but it sounded more like a question to her ears.

"We've established nothing good comes from reading Magnus' books. Can we move on to how in the name of the angel we are going to get out of here!" Isabelle huffed, actually huffed. She'd been trying for days to find a way to save her brother, now she was sitting here huffing at him like they were back home in Manhattan bickering over whose turn it was to feed Church.

"Magnus?" This time it was a definite question that pulled from Alec's trembling lips. His eyes had gone cloudy, the bright blue covered with confusion.

"Alec, you're bleeding," interjected Isabelle with a slight gasp to her words. Alec looked down to the white shirt that was draped over his chest. A line of scarlet had begun to take shape, running from his throat down to his stomach and disappearing into the hem of his pants. Suddenly, Alec coughed, more blood spilling from his lips in a violent wave. It took all Isabelle had not to scream. "What's happening?" she cried, tears forming in her eyes as she threw her arm around her brother and stood him up straight. "We have to get out of here."

"N-No…Izzy, no…" Alec sputtered, a few drops of blood landing on her blouse and neck.

"The boy is right," Maia's snide voice sounded out over the billows of thunder raging above them. She was sure it was Maia, and hadn't the presence of mind to question it. "You can't possibly leave this place. You're too weak, too…mortal. Isn't that right, Alec? You have nothing left to live for. You have given up."

"Shut your mouth, you two-faced demon bitch!" Isabelle practically growled. There was tension between her and Maia already because of Simon. So what if they'd forged a bond over it. This apparition was wearing on her last nerve.

"Magnus…" Isabelle heard Alec mutter again.

"Look at him. Weak, pathetic, blubbering over someone who doesn't love him in return." Maia cackled and threw her head back. If she was solid, Isabelle would have punched her smack in the face.

"You don't know anything about love!" Isabelle shrieked back over the sudden wind that threatened to blow her backwards and deeper into the cemetery.

"And you do? You shy away from it because you fear pain." A red glow had begun to form in Maia's eyes, piercing and unrelenting. "Alec fears love. There is no difference."

"Love is pain," Alec mumbled, hanging onto Isabelle as he summoned up a sliver of strength and stared down Maia. "But I would rather have Magnus in my life and feel that pain than lose him and feel nothing at all. Love is worth the risk. I am worth the risk."

It was the first time Isabelle had ever heard Alec speak of Magnus that way. Through the blood that threatened to choke off his resolve, her brother stood firm and unwavering. She could see the true Alec rising from the depths—the one that loved his family and laughed and smiled, and had held Magnus' hand in Idris before the Clave and pronounced his love. That was the Alec she knew. Gone were the traces of brooding remorse and tear stained pillows, the terrors and nightmares that had woken him from a dead sleep every night since his departure from Magnus. Something had changed. And so had Maia.

"Go in peace, Isabelle and Alec Lightwood. You are free to leave the Divine City if you can find your way out," said Maia, her dark hair blowing in the wind. They both looked at her stunned. Maia laughed through her words, "I am no angel of darkness. I am merely a host for those who seek to bring you back. Someone up world is looking out for you, though you might want to explain to him that the glitter isn't necessary." She turned away and then quickly looked back over her shoulder. "Alec, you always knew how to find your way back. You just had to believe that you were worth it. Aku cinta kamu," smiled Maia. "Your warlock calls you home."

* * *

"How do we get back?" Isabelle's voice was barely recognizable to his ears. Although she was shouting out her plea, Alec couldn't comprehend what was happening. All this time—the entire time he'd been stuck in this place—it was his own self-doubt that had trapped him.

_You are not trivial…_

Magnus had said those words to him once, and Alec had not believed it. Not then. He had chosen to ignore Magnus' words because deep down he felt as though Magnus could do better. Alec would not live forever, and sooner or later Magnus would grow tired of him. As he aged and withered away to dust and shadows, Magnus would not look upon him with love and kindness. Those looks, the way his lips curved in the corner when he was particularly proud of something, and the adoration in his eyes would all be lost to time. Magnus would not view Alec the same when he was an old man who no longer had the will to draw a stamina rune. That was what Alec feared the most—falling in love with someone who would never know what it felt like to grow old with someone, to live a full and happy life and be with them to the bitter end. Magnus deserved better than a frumpy old man in his nineties, ringing a bell for someone to come and help him out of bed. That was, if Alec even lived that long. The life of a Shadowhunter was temporary; at any moment, that life could be cut short, and was being cut short at this very moment. But being in this place had made Alec realize two things. One, that he was not ready to die, and despite his earlier words with Maia, he didn't want to leave his family if there was choice in the matter. And two, he would not survive without Magnus Bane. If Magnus deemed him worthy of his love—and he had, Alec knew that—then who was he to deny his own feelings? It was his complete breakdown that had caused Alec to act so irrationally after leaving Magnus in the subway. The constant fights, the isolation, night terrors, desperate pleas, and the final, idiotic request he'd made to Jace were all a product of that loneliness. He'd made a mistake; that was all it surmounted to. He was worthy of being loved. He was worthy of forgiveness and redemption.

It was Magnus he heard now, his voice ringing as clear as daylight in his ears, begging for his return. Isabelle was looking at him like he had just ordered a flock of ducks for Jace's birthday. She couldn't hear. She didn't know.

Magnus loved him.

Magnus had come to help after all.

But it wasn't just the thought of Magnus that pulled Alec closer to reality. It was something that Maia had said which began his transition: _What do you have left to live for when everyone you love is dead and gone_? He'd heard a mimicked murmur in Magnus' voice asking the same question, but not in the same tense as Maia. It was more of a personal question for Magnus, whereas Maia meant it literally. _A literal translation_. What did he have left to live for? He knew what she was trying to get across; the journey home would be one way for him. Isabelle wasn't facing death, she would return as she always was, but not without his help.

Alec would not return unscathed.

_What do you have left to live for when everyone you love is dead and gone? _

He would accept the price for his brush with death. Even as the blood seeped from his body and garnished the dried soil at his feet, even as Maia glanced back at them over her shoulder—a shoulder that had started to sprout wings of fire—he knew what she had been trying to convey. In order for him to look after those he cared about above all else, he would not return as a mortal.

_What do you have left to live for when everyone you love is dead and gone? _

When everyone was dead and gone, Alec would remain. Immortality was the price for his resurrection. And he would pay it to get Isabelle safely home. He would live for himself. He would live to serve the oath in which he had taken, even if it wasn't in the same manner. And he would live to make reparations to a love he could now withstand.

"We rush the gate," Alec murmured, slowly starting to understand that this had never been about death. It had been about sacrifice—what he was willing to give up in order to live. It wasn't a curse from Hell, but a blessing from the angel. The same angel who now took up flight and disappeared over the treetops as if she had never been there in the first place. Isabelle wasn't here by accident; the angel knew he needed a reason—more than just his love for Magnus—to see clearly. He needed to be reminded that although the descent into Hell was easy, it was the climb to freedom that was worth the fight. Seeing Isabelle's face—his sister, his family—made Alec understand that he needed to survive. For them. For himself. For Magnus. He could not give into his own selfish needs. He would be strong for them. He would make it back.

"But you said—"

Alec cut off Isabelle with a look as he bled rivers against the cemetery soil. "On three, Izzy."

"On three."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Magnus didn't know how long he'd been in this room, or when he fell asleep and his magic had continued to fill Alec's body with warmth and rejuvenation. He only knew that something was different when his eyes fluttered open. He was no longer resting beside Alec, but more underneath him, Alec's head nuzzled against his chest. And Magnus' arm was wrapped around the boy, something that hadn't happened in more time than Magnus cared to remember. The gravity of the situation suddenly dawned on him—Alec was alive. And not just alive, but moving, breathing, and somehow fully healed of his injuries, though a faint red scar ran the length of his chest that would probably never heal. There was blood on the sheets that hadn't been there when he'd entered the room. It was everywhere, all over the bed, all over Magnus and all over the pillows beneath them. Magnus wondered if Alec had suffered another injury, but he could find no traces of an open wound anywhere on his body as he frantically looked Alec over.

"That tickles," mumbled Alec, obviously still half asleep.

Magnus gasped and clutched at the boy he loved, nearly smothering him in his stunned excitement. "How is this possible? You were nearly dead."

"It seems the angel holds you in high regard," whispered Alec against Magnus' chest.

"The angel?" Magnus had to laugh, though there was nothing particularly funny about the situation. It was as he laughed that Magnus noticed the difference in Alec. He was still the same young boy he knew, but there were faint impressions of heavenly influence etched into the curve of his muscles, as if something protected him like a shield. Magnus realized almost instantaneously what had happened to Alec. "You're immortal." The words sound distant, and quite frankly, unbelievable.

"I don't feel any different, but…yes." Alec lifted his head, his striking blue eyes cutting through Magnus' chest like a memory resurfacing from the darkness. He had long dreamt of falling on those eyes again, and now that it was here, he could not look away.

"How?" Magnus shakily breathed out.

"It took me a while to figure that out," Alec said, running a hand through his silky black hair. "When Jace burnt me with heavenly fire, I think it was triggered. I got trapped between dimensions, and you would not believe who I ended up talking to. I heard you, Magnus. Your voice calling to me." A smile crossed his face. "Anyway, I had heavenly fire inside of me the entire time. It was why I could talk to the angel and no one else could. But then Isabelle showed up and disturbed the balance, making me see that I had to leave in order to keep her safe. Only, I wasn't coming back the same way I left. I'm still a Shadowhunter, still Jace's _Parabatai_…just a little less breakable. Does that make sense?"

_Divine intervention_.

"Partially." Magnus chuckled and leaned to kiss Alec's forehead. "But apparently, you have a very long time to explain it to me." Alec seemed to freeze beneath Magnus' lips. Had he pushed too far too soon? He only wanted to give comfort, even if Alec never loved him in return after the horrible months of exile he'd put him through. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, pulling away from the scent of soap and sandalwood and boy.

"Why?" Alec glanced back up with teary eyes.

"I overstepped my bounds, forgive me," replied Magnus uncertainly.

"No." Alec sat up and ruffled his hair. He appeared to be fully on the mend and not lacking for strength by the looks of things. "I meant, why are you here?"

"I thought it was obvious? I love you." Magnus squeezed Alec's hand.

A single tear rolled down Alec's cheek; Magnus almost cried himself. "I waited so long to hear those words again. I love you too," explained Alec. "Please, forgive me for what I did. I wouldn't ask unless I thought there was a chance that we could be together again. I don't want to go through an eternity without you."

Forgiveness. There could be no forgiveness—that was what Magnus had thought in the past. But at the threat of losing Alec forever, forgiveness didn't seem like such a hard thing to do in comparison. In truth, he'd all but forgiven Alec the moment it had occurred. "On one condition," Magnus murmured against Alec's lips. "We let everyone wait just a moment longer before we spring the inevitable truth upon them."

And then they were kissing, Alec's mouth hot on his. He could taste the salt of tears on his tongue, and something sweet that reminded him of sugared rose petals in the summertime. His hands swept around Alec's firm and toned body, fingers tracing over runes and skin and muscle, any place that he could touch. And Alec had wrapped around Magnus as well, tasting his skin, his lips, his tongue, frantic in his movements and making soft sounds of pleasure in the back of his throat. Magnus' lips began to swell and blissfully ache from the fierce pressure of their mouths seeking to devour one another, urgent for the thrill and excitement and love that had, up until now, been absent from their lives. It was as if they were completing each other all over again. He could not leave Brooklyn now. Not now. He would stay for Alec.

"I know you're in there, Alexander Lightwood!" It was Isabelle, screeching and hollering out in the hallway, her heavy toed boot banging away at the door. "Everyone is waiting for you, and I don't want to be the one to tell the Silent Brothers you're getting naked with a warlock!"

In the background, Magnus could hear Jace shouting something about how no one needed to hear the specifics, and that he was now both blind and deaf.

Magnus drew back with a sharp breath, and locked eyes with Alec, who was flush in the cheeks and licking his lips as if to savor the moment. "She must have told them already," he said to Magnus with a sheepish grin.

"We have an eternity to 'get naked' with each other. Let me just conjure up some clothes for you, and we'll head out and explain all this to the masses," sighed Magnus, placing another kiss on Alec's perfect lips.

"Nothing fancy," Alec grumbled—_still the same old Alec he'd always been, just a little less breakable_, Magnus thought.

"Would I do that to you?" Magnus hopped from the bed, a trail of newly formed glitter spreading across the sheets.

"Yes, you would." Alec eyed him playfully, a rue smile firmly in place. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

**-The End-**


End file.
